My Gorgeous Kingly Son said to me “Momma I love you, Please don’t use your Snapchat filter to talk to me. I love you with your Flaws.” My Heart. I love Authenticity too. In Others. But sometimes I still want to just Pretty It Up a Bit. Scared that others might Love Me Less if they See the Truth. I know my only Hope to Be a Blessing is my Ability to be Real. But sometimes Vulnerability is Scary. And Sometimes its Hardest with those Closest to Us. But truly the Only hope of Connection comes through Truth. Rawness. Openness. Vulnerability.
So Today I will Fight the Urge to Filter Myself. Yes I will Wear My Optimism. I will choose to See Life through the Best Light. But I will never Try to Appear Better than I am in Real Time. I am Enough.
Thanks my Darling Son. My Kids are My Best Teachers and Mentors.
I Love You Hunter. I love All of You Too.
xoxo
In my Storage Bin for my Precious Kiddos you won’t find their Sunday Best. You’ll find Stained Onesies with Alphagetti all over the Front. You’ll find Little Brown Boots with Spring Mud still caked in their Rubber Soles. You’ll see Worn Denim with Holes in the Knees. And Yes the odd Sunday Dress that was Mother’s Day Special. For Memories are made in the Ordinary Days. The days we did Nothing Special. The Days we just Sat and Read Dr. Suess on the Blue Checked Sofa. Smelling like Zoodles and Coffee and their Warm Bodies curled around me on the Sofa. The Soft Feel of Nap Time Settling In. Memories change as Time Goes On. Now I even Hate to Admit it, but Someday I will have Fond Memories of Heaps of Clothes on Their Floor. Three Day Cheerio Milk in Bowls by Beds. A Dog Diaper because Charlie wasn’t Fixed in Time.
The Last Two Weeks I’ve been getting Adrenaline Rushes. It’s Been Years. I guess it was Utter Adrenal Burnout. My Energy Levels were Zero. I Learned to Press On because of Necessity. I Learned to Prioritize. So you can imagine the Ultimate Thrill of waking up at Three AM and going “Shoot, I so wish it was Morning!”. I’m Excited to Live Again. Things Excite Me. I never believed in Adrenal Burnout. I honestly struggled Hating Myself. Deeming myself Lazy. But Darlings, Stress on the Adrenals is Real. Chronic Stress will Deplete your Energy Stores. I never understood why I felt so Convicted to Quit my Last Job. I loved it on so many Levels. Or why I needed so much Rest in the months following. But Friends, we need to trust our Bodies. Every Day they Work for Us. And they know when we are Tired. Near Burnout. So our Energy Drops. Our Bodies insist on Rest. And One Day, the Adrenals wake up from their Healing Sleep. And Stretch their Rejuvenated Limbs. And there’s that Feeling! That wonderful Surge of Life! The Stirring in the Belly. Your Heart Thumps for the First time in Ages. And instead of it being Scary it’s Stirring. It’s Life Giving. And you Realize you’ve Turned a Corner. And Wow you feel Young Again.
But you know, our Dear Friends and Family have Given Us the Floor. Everyone wants us to Find Our Rhythm Again. We Badly want to Find Our Rhythm. He is Still the One who Lights My World. His Arms Are Home To Me. So, The Dukes Gotta Come Down. The Heart Has To Stay Open. We Got to Trust the Choreographer. This Dance is Our Dance. I’ll Practice my Left Hooks at Rumble Studio. The Little Boxing Studio. Down the Street.
It was my first Act of Self Care. Stemware in my hand like Jazz playing gently from my stereo makes me feel Special. I remember when I made the Choice to do the Little Things. So every night when I went to bed I would reach for my Special Stemware. The ones I saved for Company or Family Dinners. It was Cool to the Touch and I loved how Pretty and Clear the water looked as it Swirled into the Glass. After Getting my Special Green and White Pill called Prozac from it’s Friendly Orange Bottle I would Head to Bed. I felt Luxury in that Moment. I realized Regardless of my situation, I could Make Life Special.
We go through things in Life that make our legs Concrete. Our joints become hot and sore from Stress. Our knees Tremble and Shake. An Elephant takes Residence on our Chests. Making it hard to Breathe. Laundry Piles become Everests. The dishes in the sink Taunt us. The soft light of Dawn becomes Blinding and Painful. Sleep becomes our only Escape. Our Beds become our Safe Zone. And also a Torture Chamber if sleep Eludes. Smiles become Frozen in Place. Completely Incongruent with our Broken Spirits.
b l a c k l i l y 